Youth Of The Nation
by XxDailyDreamxX
Summary: The youth of today has become slowly more violent, sexual, and depressed. Matthew, quiet and shy, has snapped and shot up the school. Lili has become a slut, wanting love after her brother left her. Alfred has become suicidal, desperate for attention.
1. Gun Blast

Normal, that was how the days always started out. Arthur Kirland groaned and rolled over to slam the snooze button on his alarm clock, cherishing the few extra moments of rest he was able to enjoy. A few minutes later the shrill sound of the alarm filled his ears once again and the English teenager swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the crusty sleep away from his eyes and then yanked the black cord connecting the alarm to the wall out, silencing the annoying sound instantly. With a yawn, Arthur scratched his head and stretched out his limps, standing up and toddling over to the wardrobe he had left open last night to search for a decent outfit to wear to school that morning. The blonde finally decided on a black pair of skinny jeans, a Sex Pistols band t-shirt, black and white checkered wristband, and his favorite pair of Union Jack converse.

Arthur let out a soft stream of curses as he looked at the time; he only had fifteen minutes before it was time for him to be in homeroom, a twenty minute walk from his house. He snagged his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, sliding down the wooden stair rail and snagging a piece of toast and ignoring the short goodbyes from his mother as he dashed out the door. Arthur kicked over his skateboard and quickly jumped on it, deciding that it would be quicker to skate than it would to run in order for him to get to school that morning. The Brit passed a few fellow high school students on his way to school and laughed lightly when he saw them running, only to then look at the time and kick off harder in order to make it in time.

Five minutes later after shoving his skateboard in his locker and running to the classroom, Arthur managed to skid into the classroom and stumble to a halt just as the bell rang. "Take a seat, Mister Kirkland, we're about to start the test." Mr. Yao said and nodded a short hello. Arthur gave a curt nod back and walked over to his seat, shoving his bag underneath the desk and plopping into the hard desk of his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the quiet Canadian kid that sat next to him hunched over his desk, trembling slightly. What was his name? Martin? Melvin? Matthew? Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

Mr. Yao walked around the room and passed out the single sheets of paper. Arthur waited patiently until all the tests were passed out until he was allowed to flip over his test, trying to read through the paper anyway so he could get a small head start. He smirked; so far this appeared like it would be a pretty easy test. Coming down the next row, the Chinese teacher paused at Matthew's desk. "Alfred? Would you please sit up and put your phone away? We're about to take the test and if you don't put away all electronics I'll be forced to confiscate them.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly when the Canadian student stiffened then stood up so quickly that he knocked the chair over. He started trembling violently and looked up at the teacher through his fringe, a murderous gleam in his eyes. "I… I am not Alfred, you bitch!" Matthew hissed. This got the attention of the whole class, who looked up to stare at the usually quiet man in alarm. "I'm sick and tired of everyone forgetting me! I'm not invisible! And after this… You'll never forget me, ever again!" He shrieked, raising the black item that Mr. Yao had thought was a cell phone. Arthur froze in his seat, unable to move as his eyes took in what the item was. A 9 mm handgun was clenched tightly in his hand, extra bullets hanging out of several 10-round magazines that were stuffed in his pocket.

The Chinese man widened his eyes, "Melvin, I'm sure that we can work this out. Please just put down the gun or give it to me…" He requested, trying to sound as calm as possible in front of his students and the clearly snapped man standing in front of him, holding the gun up to his forehead. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as his body began to heat up and demanding that he run away, leaving his class behind.

"My. Name. Is. Matthew. Williams." Matthew growled, flicking back the safety lock and pulling the trigger. A loud boom filled the classroom as the firearm was set off, a bullet having been shot into Yao's head by the previously harmless student. The older man stood frozen for a moment, crumpling to the ground in a heap as the muscles in his body relaxed at once. A crimson puddle of blood began to pool around him as the bullet wound allowed the liquid to flow freely.

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room, that was all before the screaming began. Two dozen students began charging to the only small door in the classroom to allow them outside, some of them yanking open the windows and attempting to jump to safety from the first floor window. Desks were shoved to the side along with chairs, other students were trampled as they all made a mad dash for their only chance of safety. The only one remained seated was Arthur, too stunned and frightened to move.

The Canadian cackled madly as he continued to flick back the safety lock and fire multiple rounds, loading in new bullets every few seconds. It was clear he had used a gun before. Three more bodies fell to the ground as bullets pierced their skin, one of them howling in pain as the bullet had only punctured his calf muscle and not a vital organ. The two others, Elizaveta and Roderich, however, were not so lucky. Elizaveta lay on the ground heaving for air, coughing up more blood than the wound puncturing her lung was spilling and Roderich gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over and the fear still reflected in his lifeless eyes.

The younger blonde finally turned to Arthur, still frozen in his chair. "You… You never remembered me either, did you? But I remembered you. I remembered your name, Arthur. Goodbye, Kirkland." He giggled, cocking the gun once again before releasing multiple rounds straight into the British student's heart.

Arthur gasped, falling out of the chair and onto the ground on his side. His skull made a sickening crack as it hit the tile floor, causing his vision to dim. The blonde began hyperventilating, trying to get oxygen to his body and trying to keep his punctured heart pumping. Why? What had happened to make Matthew snap so suddenly? He was always quiet and never wanted any attention. A loud, wet cough was hacked up from his lungs and throat. As soon as he saw the glob or blood in his palm, he felt his heart clench suddenly. Arthur wasn't going to make it out of this alive. He should have said goodbye to his mother this morning, he should have thanked his father for all the lifetime lessons and wisdom he shared with him. And God, he should have told his brothers he loved them.

Screams continued to echo throughout the hallways, followed by more sounds of gunshots and a laugh that could make a person's blood go cold. Arthur could feel his body slowly shutting down and could see his vision going in and out of focus. There was so much more he needed to do, so much of the world he needed to see. And now he would never be able to. Everything in his dying shell continued to die off, his vision slowly going black and his heartbeat pumping slower and slower. The last thing to go was his hearing, the sense he wished could have left him first.

Just as his soul began to detach from his earthly hold, one last word filled his ears, "ARTHUR!" A voice shrieked, the voice of his beloved oldest brother was calling out his name one last time before everything became numb.


	2. Sound of a Gat

A polished black pistol pressed against a head of sandy blonde hair. Tears streamed down the cheeks of the teenager who prepared to take his own life with the sound of a gat. He was more of a boy, really. Only nineteen years old, still so young… So much to live for, so much he had to yet experience. And yet, here he was, ready to leave this godforsaken hell.

**_Alfred F. Jones walked slowly to school, staring down at his hand-me-down sneaker clad feet the entire way. His dirty red backpack, complete with several American flag patches covering it, seemed to weigh more than usual that day. The weight dragged him down with every step, and he was tempted to just turn around and run back home, to complete what he had been planning for the past three months. He wore a slightly dirty and wrinkled deep blue tee that was a bit too large on him, a studded black belt, and ripped blue jeans. The rips were what was popular, so he recently cut holes in them. Alfred clutched a brown bag in his hand, containing something his friends had asked for him to obtain the evening before. _**

**_The harsh words of his father still echoed in his ears, screams of how useless he was becoming. The blonde American boy was once a chipper, laid back, well behaving teenager, now gone bad. Ever since Matti had died, the unquenchable thirst for popularity overwhelmed him. He broke every rule laid out in front of him, hoping that his peers would be impressed. However, no matter how hard he tried, he was still never really one of the guys. He was still alone. _**

**_The sound of laughing and shouting caught his attention. Alfred temporarily perked up as he lifted his head to look for the source of the noise, grinning when he saw who made it. He shouted out happily as he dashed forward to catch up to his friends, Ivan, Mathis, Juan, and Nathanial. "Hey guys! What's up?" Alfred laughed, grinning. _**

**_The other night he had broken into the church to steal the communion wine. It was becoming too much of a hassle to obtain lately, so they asked Alfred to do it for them. He gladly accepted, unknowing they were only using him to prevent the risk of being arrested themselves._**

**_The four men looked at each other, obviously trying to prevent themselves from laughing. Ivan, the largest of the four, leaned down so he was eye level to the American, his obnoxiously large nose almost brushing against Alfred's own as he took the brown bag. . "Alfred, we have no idea how you came to the idea that you were allowed to be graced with our presence, but I suggest you leave before the others lose their patience, da? Be grateful I am one of the more patient ones~" He smirked, curling his fingers into a fist and swinging his arm, his fist made rough contact with Alfred's stomach, causing the blonde teenager to cough and gag, he coughed small droplets of blood into his hand, cursing as he did so._**

**_The four laughed in amusement as Alfred began to try backing away, once pondering the idea of mercy, but now feeling that their own amusement was more important._**

**_Three hours later Alfred managed to pick himself up off of the sidewalk, gathering his ripped and mainly destroyed possessions with trembling hands. He sniffled pathetically as he shoved the remainders of his items into what was left of his backpack, zipping it shut and swinging it over his shoulder. He didn't bother to put his other arm through the other strap; it would take too much effort. The pain from the scrapes all over his body was also unbearable, he wasn't sure if he had broken any bones, but he was positive he had pulled something in the fight. Possibly a hairs-breath fracture in his knuckles when he tried to punch Juan back in the face. _**

**_Blood trickled down the side of his head and into his eyes, causing him to gasp and furiously rub his eyes with his torn tee in an attempt to remove the stinging liquid from his eyes and the tears that were threatening to fall over. _**

_**School was already three periods in, going into the fourth. Alfred really didn't see the point in going, so he began his long walk home. It wasn't like he had any friends to say goodbye to.** _

Everyone forgot. Everyone laughed. Everyone was ashamed. Everyone viewed him, Alfred F. Jones, as the reason that Matthew Williams, his beloved brother, snapped. Forty-seven lives were taken that day by the hands of his seemingly shy and innocent brother, he just suddenly snapped and no one knew why, so they blamed Alfred.

He now knew why. Why his brother, so sweet, loving, and talented, had snapped. He was tired of being ignored, of being alone. The truth was, he never was really alone. He still had Alfred, who loved him with all of his heart. But now, Alfred was the one who was all alone.

It was hard when you ain't got no friends. No one there to support you, to love you, to tell you that everything was going to be alright. If he took his own life, then maybe… Maybe, they might remember him then. They might regret not having listened to him earlier, they might regret all of the horrible things they did to him, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

His body was littered in bruises from the very men he had tried so hard to befriend, throwing away his entire being to attempt to impress. Alfred had always played the fool, but it never worked. They never remembered when he did something good, and when he did something wrong, they would never forget. Never let him live it down.

There was nothing left for him here.  
>No friends.<br>No family.  
>No hopes.<br>No dreams.  
>… No Mattie…<p>

And with that, he scrunched his fearful baby blue eyes tightly shut, squeezing his finger around the trigger.

Blood and brain matter splattered against the walls with a sickening squelch as the loud bang of the handgun echoed throughout the large empty house, always so empty… Though the bedroom looked like something out of a horror scene, a peaceful smile was forever frozen on the youth's still beautiful face. He was finally free, from all the pain, the hurt. He was finally back with his beloved Matthew. He knew it was a sin. But in heaven or hell, as long as they were together, he didn't feel frightened anymore… He was no longer alone.


End file.
